“And you, I think, are a hypocrite.”
Wade blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You called the Raineses ‘vain snobs’, did you not? Yet, you are no better.”
“Please, madam, do elaborate on my shortcomings…”
“You singled me out from the very start, inviting me to walk in the rose garden. You tried to seduce me under the guise of helping me learn croquet. And that unpleasant business in the tent—”
“Forgive me, but I seem to recall a willing participant.”
She shook her head as if to argue, yet shehadbeen willing until the last. Wade felt certain the attraction was mutual. His only sin had been indiscretion. He’d put her in the Raineses’ path.
“You believe because you are a duke, you may make sport of me. You believe because I am pretty, I must be yours. You believe because of your looks, and your rank, and your legendary reputation—oh, yes, Ihavebeen educated on that point—that I am amenable to a flirtation.”
Cassandra raised her gloved hand and counted off his faults on three fingers. “Vain. Snobbish. Unfeeling. Are you certain you will not wed Eugenie Raines? It seems to me that you two are cut from the same cloth.”
Wade had gravely underestimated Cassandra Staunton, and the misstep had left him flayed. Indeed, her words stung like a slap in the face.
As she stepped away, he recognized something familiar in her biting words, her steely posture. Something had gone wrong between the two of them, and she’d erected a barrier of protection.
Wade frequently lashed out to hide his weakness and insecurity. He too knew hurt, embarrassment, distrust. If even one person in his past had fought for him, he might’ve turned out differently.
He could not allow Cassandra to believe the worst.
He would not let her go without a fight.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Well,thatought to have done it! Cassandra had poked the bear, so to speak. She’d prodded at his insecurities—that he was, in fact, a pretentious, vainglorious, hard-hearted libertine. A noble title reduced to a caricature. A carbon-paper copy of all that he despised.
Truthfully, she found him to be none of those things, yet Cassandra could not let His Grace nurture this attraction he felt for her.
A mutual attraction.
One that would end in heartbreak.
She would not be his wife, and could not be his lover. She could neither give him children nor the female companionship he craved. Any relationship between them meant a lifetime of loneliness and frustration, and Cassandra couldn’t subject the Duke of Wadebridge to that.
Yes, she insulted him to protect him, but she also protected herself. Loneliness, frustration, and disillusion bred resentment. Cassandra had read enough tales of unhappy marriages to know what became of poorly-matched partners.
She could be his duchess—of that, she had no doubt—yet wealth, status, and a dangerously handsome husband would never make her happy. A pretty, frigid wife would never makehimhappy.
Cassandra refused him, just as she had refused the attentions of a dozen gentlemen who came before him. If she could not be the very best wife, she preferred to remain alone.
As Wadebridge predicted, Eugenie and Mrs. Raines waited until the last moment to make their grand entrance. Those ladies had dressed to impress the gentlemen, who doubtless admired fine French silks cut to perfection. Their evening gowns had been ordered from Paris and fitted by an expert seamstress.
They made Honoria appear dumpy, Octavia frumpy, and Cassandra feel…well, grumpy. Women like Eugenie Raines snagged husbands like Wadebridge.
Although Cassandra denied it—mocked it, even—she fostered a jealous infatuation for the duke. She’d be sorry to see His Grace end up with Miss Raines, who could be both his duchessandhis lover.
The party gathered in the center of the drawing room. When Lord Althorne’s butler announced that dinner was served, they moved toward the open doorway and the corridor beyond.
Hundreds of years of rank and tradition could not be broken in a single evening. As host, Lord Althorne must lead Lady Crewe, the highest-ranking female, into the dining room. Wadebridge was the highest-ranking male, and it was his duty to escort Mrs. Raines. Lord Crewe offered his arm to Miss Raines, and Mr. Swygert stepped to the back of the line to walk with Octavia, the eldest sister.
Cassandra and Honoria would simply have to follow behind, as there weren’t enough gentlemen to takethemin to dinner.
Truthfully, it stung her pride. The Staunton sisters had been born to a lady, the daughter of a London merchant, and an Oxford scholar. Mama and Papa had been gentle, honest people, yet they ranked lower in society’s eyes than Mrs. Raines’ absentee husband.
